


The first memory

by AtmaWriting



Series: Memories of life and death [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Memories, Other, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmaWriting/pseuds/AtmaWriting
Summary: Part of a project I have with a friend as we discussed "What if our characters saw each other's memories through their dreams?"





	The first memory

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly a personal writing, specially since I have never written anything from this kind of point of view. Names may or may not be random since both my brain and my friends list forgot about them.

You open your eyes, a distorted image soon taking shape as voices start filling your head. There’s chattering, the clanking of mugs and the smell of alcohol in the air as cheers are all that you can hear. Soon it is all clear, the hard surface of the bannister you’re leaning your hand onto, the beautiful arrangements of plants on the ceiling that not many would pay much attention to. The atmosphere was rather different, rather clean if you had to describe it. No women or men scantilly clad leaning around the walls or railings. No bar fights taking place as it would usually be on a daily basis. No signs of Au Ra seeking shelter or invite you into their brothel. 

It was as if you were in a new place all along, but the mere glance at the tables, the surroundings filled with budding adventurers and veteran mercenaries. It all brought nostalgia, one mixed with both yearning to be there again, yet also bringing a bittersweet feeling with it. If only the Quicksand had stayed this way for longer, maybe, maybe none of the tragedies that had befallen you would have taken place. Or perhaps you would have lived your life in bliss and ignorance until your short lifespan reached it’s end. 

Then there were the talks taking place right beside you as you remained standing and watching. A female lalafell keeping an eye on you alongside the motley crew that was hanging out after another succesfull event. A male lalafell already catching people’s attention in the middle of the pub, with a charismatic smile and throwing papers all around. The orange of his robes matching the theme from the fliers that had “The Piquant Pumpkin Cafe” written on them. Perhaps not the best way to advertise himself, but he was your boss, there was little to argue about that. Even more when said business relied on borrowing public spaces to open for a sun or two.

It was then, that the angry snarls of one of your co-wrokers called your attention. He didn’t stand out much when compared to the other miqo’te in the large room. But there were two simple details that would make anyone think twice about getting on his bad side. One, he was one of the strongest bouncers they had when work was up. And two, there was an axe of no small size hanging on his back. 

You didn’t take much action, your boss’s second in charge, the lady lalafell had been keeping an eye on him the whole time from the looks of it. And not just her, but other workers as well. The angered man couldn’t as much take a step towards the drunken Duskwight that had pissed him off before there were hands on his chest pushing him back and telling him to calm down. All you did was watch in silence as the lady in charge was quick on her feet to scold him for falling for such simple provocations, specially when the man playing the fool was clearly lost in the depths of drunkenness. Except there were small details here and there that caught your attention. And it seemed you weren’t the only one to notice that. One quick sip of your own mug, and you could see one, two, at least four or five people taking interest in the man hallucinating around the establishment.

You thought it was over, when the elezen in question was approached by one of the men that had taken interest in him. The sword and shield on his self declaring that he was probably a mercenary of some sort, or even a Brass Blade off duty. Things had calmed down once more, your co-worker still throwing a tantrum over losing his chance to punch a hallucinating man, and two people already handling the poor victim. Yet you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off. 

The Duskwight was believing any tease from the men trying to help him, their jokes stirring him to behave more like a paranoid than someone who could come back to his senses with a bucket of water thrown at him. “It’s the garleans… They are here.. I can see them.. You could be one of them!” you heard him say as he looked around himself, not even being able to acknowledge the people around him. 

“Calm down Varus… Can’t you see the man’s more drunk than conscious?” you finally heard yourself say to your co-worker, though you knew your words would fall on deaf ears. The more the miqo’te heard the mad man’s ramblings, the harder it was getting for the rest of the crew to keep him from killing someone on he spot. Your nervous glances were no good either, you knew there were people that shared the same worry that you had at that moment.

More people approached the small commotion, and all you could do was but to be there but also not being swallowed completely into it. At least, that was your wish until the Duskwight collapsed. His face hitting the stone floor with such haste that you knew he must have taken a good hit to the head after it. You realized at that moment that at least half the people in the Quicksand had taken interest in this strange skirmish by then. With the other half succesfully being distracted by your boss’s quick acting. 

Healers rushed to the scene, or at least, those with enough knowledge about arcane magic and first aids to look upon the poor man. Even your angry aquaintance had slightly calmed down and stepped back to let others take better actions than him. The dark skinned elezen had a trail of blood coming down his forehead, and drool was coming out of his mouth. One that not many seemed to take note of, except for you and the healers. 

“Oh yeah! He was drinking some strange black liquid before he got all crazy didn’t he?” you heard someone say from their comfortable position near the group. “Yes, I hadn’t seen anything like it, but the man’s got the looks of a pauper! He couldn’t have gotten that for free” you heard another woman say. All these new rumors spreading like wildfire as an expert scholar had stepped in to tend to the Duskwight’s wounds and possible intoxication. Except it didn’t fully help. Before you knew it, the man was up, more paranoid than ever. “I-It’s the garleans! They’re here! You’re one… or you could be another too!” he claimed, pointing fingers at anyone that was in his way.

And boy was this man really trying to mess himself up bad. First he broke away from the healers, ones that apparently didn’t take much offense to it, but also stepped away from this, as if their job was done. The lady lalafell had managed to stop the man, but only for a few seconds before the worst part happened. There was a good mug of ale on Varu’s hand at one moment, and the next it was all over his leathery attire after having it knocked down by his worst enemy at that moment. With the maniac rushing out the door, while the furious bouncer followed right after, yelling “That’s it! I’m gonna kill him this time!”.

Of course you rushed out the door as well, the murderous man was still a member of your motley crew, and no one wanted to see blood shed that late afternoon. You were grateful, even going as far as letting out a sigh of relief once you found the group just in front of the pub. With other bouncers already holding their comrade off while the women tried to reason with the mad man. This didn’t feel right, none of you were supposed to be involved in this mess. It was just one normal day to drink and to wait for their next job after all. But everthing kept spiraling out of control over and over. 

Your boss didn’t come out of the Quicksand, someone had to be the calm voice that led any attention away from this mess after all. His second in command had instead stepped in. The lady who’s lack of height was nothing to take into account when it came to her trying to put things in order. She was even quick enough to scold and at least force her own furious worker to promise to at least not kill an innocent man. And the poor elezen was free from any harm, well, any other than himself.

The question remained, what to do with him? No one from the cafe would take him in, hells, you would sleep sometimes on the encampments outside of Uldah, and on good work nights in an inn. But it was all solved just as quick as you had said your first words to ask about this dilenma. “Yo-you’re Garlean! They’re all here! G-garleans.” the man yelled, suddenly pulling out a knife from his pocked, one that you thought was a miracle that he hadn’t used it until now. Or perhaps that had been the call of all of this in the first place? There was no time to think, no time to act at all, not even the bouncers could do anything.

“I-I’m also a Garlean…” the elezen finally said in a weak tone, holding his trembling knife against his throat before it met with flesh. You couldn’t hear any screams from the women around you, not from the second in command, or from the men helping around. Even the image of the men trying to stop the maniac was all but in a slow motion as you saw everyone being sprinkled with a drop of dark red blood on them. You could feel some on your face as well, warm and suddenly feeling cold, with a stench that felt more like sewer waters than the metallic smell they all should be sensing by then.

The moment felt like an eternity as you watched the man finish slitting his own throat with ease, tumbling back. His body hitting the railing behind him as he quickly lost balance and fell backwards, causing the screams of people to finally ring in your ears. And then, there was silence, one that had that annoying muttering of people not knowing what to do, looking everywhere for answers. The men exchanging glances, speechless, as if trying to admit that there was nothing that they could have done. 

The moments that followed felt like a blur, with most people stepping back from the suicide scene. Some with weaker stomachs already having run back inside the Quicksand as the more curious stepped out to regret their decision. The Brass Blades already starting to arrive after hearing the numerous screams, yet none wanted to approach what was left of the dead body, with it’s blood already mixing with the water from the fountain that he had fallen into. 

Between the shocked comments from the witnesses, the headaches of the authorities to handle the panicked crowd that was starting to grow, you found yourself in front of the Duskwight. His eyes still open, with more of the black liquid coming from his mouth and even the gaping wound that he had done to himself. You gulped, it was at that moment, that you were reminded of how frail and innocent you were. It was clear just from looking at your delicate hands and humble vest. 

You weren’t a shell of what you were after the Calamity, but that didn’t mean you were back to being who people claimed you were. In the last five years, it had been a miracle for you to learn language, common education, and even reading and writing once more. You were just a young lass, not an alchemist, not a doctor, not someone with certain authority to do any bidding. You were no longer the tactics prodigy that your healers had told you you were. But you couldn’t leave this be, it just wasn’t right. You knew something more than alcohol or normal drugs had caused this, you could feel it in your gut.

Perhaps that was the reason why you did it. Why you suddenly found yourself pulling out the empty vials you had from a previous errand, and collected samples from each spot in which the hue of the dead man had a different color, none keeping the look of actual blood anymore. It was a small action for you, something that could help save lives someday. But quite the contrary, it was at that moment that you reaized you had probably made a mistake, one that you would carry for a long long time as you noticed the masked men whom which you had caught their fancy, for being the only one to manage to retrieve such an important sample before the Brass Blades and authorities rid themselves of the mysterious man’s remains.


End file.
